they were green when they began their journey,

bursting with life and opportunity,

relishing the sun, relinquishing the rain,

drinking deep of the desires Nature gave.

Through the summer, they provided shade,

long arms from which children swung,

wise listeners to the lonely stars,

basking in the beauty of the day.

Yet, as the autumn winds came whispering around the way,

they began to change,

the green grew golden flecked, delicate and thin,

ran red as an angry fire in a final flame,

then browned as they softly lay on the ground,

the only sound broken bones crunching beneath feet.

Oh ye soldiers who in Earth's bed do rest,

know the bullets buried in your breast

were not in vain.

Come spring, your death allows new life again.

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